


Fallen Doors

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Mob, Arranged Marriage, Engagement, F/M, First Meetings, Mob Boss FP, Murder, Rich Jughead, Self-Harm, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Betty Cooper is being married off to Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, son of notorious mob boss, Forsythe Pendleton Jones II. Her parents want money, and she wants love, and only one seems likely.





	1. Call me Jughead

**Author's Note:**

> So my tags are a WIP, just because I'm not super sure where this is going yet! But, please enjoy!

Finger spreads over porcelain cheek, saliva smearing the smooth skin there. The crumbs that had been nestled there fall to the floor, which Betty supposes is better to her mother than on her face.

"You're a mess, Elizabeth. How you manage to dirty your entire body with your meal is beyond me," Alice jeers.

Betty's eyes roll without any prompting from her, which happens often enough in her mother's presence. Her constant nagging and critiquing is enough to drive any girl mad. One misplaced step and her daughter is scolded and depreciated. It's not rare that Betty feels like a child with Alice around, making this behavior _much_ less unexpected.

On her thighs, her hands are clenched into tight fists—a damaging habit of sinking her fingernails into the flesh of her palm. It happens when Betty's anxious, which she is, and when she's angry, which she is. The skin splits, and while the sting may catch someone else off guard, Betty keeps a straight face throughout it. She drags her hands down along the inside of her pink, cashmere sweater, blood streaking the perfect fabric. Before her mother can see, the outerwear is buttoned and the stain hidden.

The chairs they're sitting in are uncomfortable, and the warmth is causing her thighs to stick to the wood. It feels as though they've been waiting for hours and she's ready to go home. Just as she opens her mouth to complain for the fifth time, the door across the hall opens.

A friendly looking man appears before them and gestures towards the door he's just exited from. "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, Elizabeth, Mr. Jones is ready for you."

Hal rises first, sticking out his arms for his daughter and wife. It's all a sham, Betty knows, but she takes his arm without complaint. This is critical for them, for their future, and even if she disagrees with them, she won't dare to resist.

They enter an enormous office filled with bookshelves and valuable art pieces. Everything is built of dark mahogany, well-polished and gleaming. The books catch Betty's eye, thick and leather-bound, but there's no time for that. Hal elbows her in the side to bring her attention to more urgent matters, to the affluent gentleman seated before them.

He's attractive, with jet-black hair and kind copper-colored eyes. His fingers are adorned with various silver rings, but lacking one on his wedding finger. The suit he wears is worth more than Betty's entire home, she's sure, but he seems unconcerned with his wealth. A nameplate on his desk reads F.P. Jones II.

"The Coopers. Nice to see you after so much time. This must be Elizabeth." He addresses them with the warmness of a dear friend.

"You can call m—" Betty starts to speak, but her mother catches her eye with a firm shake of the head. _No_. "Elizabeth will do."

"Well, _Elizabeth_ , I'm sure you know why you're here today. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Jones turns to her parents then, as if he's spoken to her more than he cares to. "Do the two of you understand what will happen once they're married?"

"Yes, FP. You'll own part of the Register, and we'll receive royalties," Hal speaks up, beaming at the mere idea of such riches. The look on his face makes Betty sick—she's not an object to be auctioned off.

"Yes, and you'll keep my name out of the papers as much as you can. This is a great business move for both of us if you do as I say."

Betty's heard all about the FP Jones and his criminal activity. Marrying his junior was the _last_ thing on her to-do list, yet here she is, smiling pretty to impress him. People have _died_ because of this man, but for some reason unbeknownst to her, her parents don't care. They care about the check they'll get for hiding any evidence they have of F.P. doing anything unlawful. Who cares if their daughter's safe? Not them.

"Elizabeth," FP says, "this is my son, Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, your fiancé. Boy, come greet your future wife."

The first time she sees him, he's wearing a gray suit. His raven hair is combed neatly to the side, but one curl persists, falling against his forehead. Unlike his father, he wears no jewelry, and he looks uncomfortable in his surroundings. His green eyes are anxious, a look Betty knows all too well.

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth." Forsythe's words appear forced, and Betty finds herself wishing she'd stayed in bed. He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her skin. She's taken aback by how smooth his lips are, and how genuine the kiss seems, but she doesn't let her guard down. If she's going to be married off to a stranger, he's going to work for it.

"Good afternoon, Forsythe."

Their parents watch with eager grins, like children gazing through a candy shop's window. It makes Betty feel like a zoo animal, being stared at like that.

"Well, perhaps we should give them time to get to know one another, yes? Forsythe, take Elizabeth to the sitting room. Offer her a drink. I'd like to speak to her parents." FP smiles at Betty, not looking at his son at all while he talks.

"Of course. This way." Forsythe holds his arm out for her, and after a moment's hesitation, she takes it.

Her parents both nod excitedly at her as she's led back into the corridor. They're more enthusiastic about this marriage than they _ever_ were about her accomplishments.

Forsythe leads her through the winding passages, indeed showing off the size of his home. It's much more extensive than Betty had anticipated and undoubtedly more substantial than her own home. They stop in front of an enormous wooden door, which Forsythe opens for her. Inside is a spacious living area with elegant furniture and artwork, much like FP's office.

She's torn from her thoughts by an unfamiliar voice, one much flatter and more sarcastic than the one she'd heard only moments earlier. "First of all, call me Jughead."


	2. A Proper Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty's hit with a curveball and has to leave her life back at Riverdale Public behind. Jughead hates the way she's being treated, but she doesn't want to hear it. Forced together, will they make it work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self harm trigger warning! Stay safe, babies.

"What?"

"I told you to call me Jughead. You know, rather than _Forsythe_. I'd preferably not be associated with my father."

Forsythe raises a brow at her as he leans against the bar top on the far wall. His entire demeanor has shifted now that it's just the two of them, which shouldn't surprise her as much as it does. No one is who they say they are when their parents are around. Whether they be darker or more rebellious, there's something buried underneath their well-behaved exterior.

Betty nods slowly as she strolls over to him. "Okay, Jughead it is. If that's the case, then, call me Betty. I've always hated 'Elizabeth.' Why _Jughead_ , though? Mine is at least short for something. Where'd that come from?"

"Dad owns a water bottling plant called _Purejug_ , and some kids thought that was hilarious. They came up with it, and I actually kind of liked it, so it stuck. In front of my dad, though, I'm Forsythe." The mention of his father plants a look of hatred and resentment on the boy's face. Betty wants to ask, but she decides it would be safer to keep her lips sealed on touchy subjects.

"Well, _Betty_ , here we are. We're going to be married this year, and there's nothing we can do about it. Guess we'd better get to know each other," Jughead begins, "I like hamburgers, _a lot_ , and I sleep on the left side of the bed. I have a dog, hope that won't be an issue. Old-timey movies are my favorite, much preferred over that superhero crap. I—"

"Slow down," Betty interrupts, "I'm not taking notes." Her lips quirk into a playful smile, and her first smile of the day at that. It's refreshing to be in the presence of someone that isn't expecting her to be perfect. "Do I get a turn?"

Jughead all but falls over at her interjection, eyes wide in shock at the confidence this girl seems to have. It's not everyday people dare to disrupt him, but man is he glad that someone finally has. Being town royalty stops being fun when you can do everything you desire with no consequence or backlash. He nods, waving his hands in front of him as if to offer her the spotlight. "The floor is yours, Miss Cooper."

The blonde clears her throat and tilts her head to think, ponytail swinging behind her. This is the first time Jughead has really stopped to look at her, _really_ study her, and he remarks that she really is considerably good-looking. Her lips are painted with light pink lipstick, a nice complement to her creamy skin. The dress she's wearing, though she seems awkward in it, is white, topped with a pink cashmere. It's pleasant, but he can't help but think that she would be much more relaxed in jeans.

"I like vanilla milkshakes topped with strawberries and cream, and I find myself in the center of the bed most nights. The left side will have to do, I guess. I _love_ dogs, so we're in the clear there. I also really like old-timey movies, but I prefer books. Specifically mystery novels. I like to figure things out, be the detective." She giggles, face bent down towards the carpet.

"So, like Nancy Drew? I can see it."

" _Exactly_ like Nancy Drew. She was my favorite, actually."

Jughead doesn't say anything, rather quietly watches her with an affectionate grin on his face. Betty takes note of the moles that litter his skin, leaving no real pattern. It's beautiful, the way he presents himself, and she finds herself needing to know more about him. It's not that far-fetched to want to know all about the man she's to marry, is it? She decides not, and takes a seat on the sofa.

"You're not what I expected. I thought you'd be more—"

"Aggressive? Hostile? Cruel? I get it. I'd probably think the same thing. To be fair, I expected you to be a lot more stuck up, coming from a family like the Coopers." His admittance to having formed an opinion on her before their meeting is almost insulting until she realizes she's done the same thing.

"My parents are very stuck up, and that's putting it lightly. Their obsession with perfection makes them that way. The Coopers, picture-perfect blondes with a white picket fence? Not likely." Betty isn't sure why she's opening up to him so suddenly and so readily. It's very out of character for her, but she suspects it has something to do with the confident and poised demeanor of the young man before her. He makes her feel at ease in a way even her best friend, Kevin, cannot.

"I like girls that aren't always what they seem. If you're not a picture-perfect blonde, Betty Cooper, what are you?" Jughead leans forward with a grin, eyes sizing her up in a way that can only be described as sensual.

* * *

 FP's office has significantly less anxiety in it this time around, and Betty can't help but question why. Her parents are beaming as if they've won the lottery and FP's smirk is a telltale sign that they've struck some kind of deal. Jughead has moved back around to the opposite side of his father's desk, presenting himself once again in the secretive and reserved image from earlier. This time, however, there's a glint in his eye she can't quite place.

"Elizabeth, we have news," Alice states, the joy playing in her voice.

"You'll be transferring to Riverdale Preparatory Academy for your senior year," Hal explains, "to be with Forsythe, here."

Betty stares, unblinking, for several moments. Transfer schools? That's out of the question for her. What about Kevin, and the Blue and Gold back at Riverdale Public High School? Her one constant is being threatened, and there's almost nothing she can do about it. Yet again, her nails sink into the familiar indents in her palms. The crescent scars begin to bleed, and she knows she needs to hide it—from her parents, from FP, from Jughead.

"Why? I'm doing fine at Riverdale High, and I'm nearly finished. What's the point of leaving now?" She risks to counter them, though she knows it's not going to work.

"You'll have more opportunities to get to know one another," FP adds. "A boarding school is good for the mind. Besides, you'd hardly see Forsythe if you were at such different schools. This makes the most sense."

"Isn't it too late for admissions? It's August and school starts in two weeks," she retorts, "I won't get in."

"I have connections, Elizabeth, don't worry yourself with that. You'll be a Jones, come June. You need to play the part, and _Joneses_ attend Riverdale Prep. You'll study alongside Forsythe, and then you'll be married. Any questions?"

Alice steps in front of her daughter and answers for her with a curt nod. "No, FP. She understands well enough. Thank you."

Betty's eyes are daggers, and if looks could kill, everyone in the room would be dead. The blood on her palms runs over her fingers, staining the skin red. She's well aware that Jughead is looking, that he sees, but she makes no move to hide it. In a huff, she turns on her heel and exits the room.

"Betty!" She keeps walking.

"Betty, _stop_!"

When she finally turns, she sees Jughead hurrying towards her. He looks worried that she's going to kill herself, and the way he's running is like he can do something to stop her.

"Are you okay?" he breathes.

Betty laughs a stiff, sinister laugh. Her green eyes stab right through him, showing no remorse. "Am I okay? You're ruining my life. You're taking away the last thing I thought I had control over. Love. I will never find love, and you don't care. _No one_ cares. Will you just get away from me? I'll see you at school, _Forsythe_."

* * *

The way she spits his name at him stings. He doesn't even really know her, and still, it tugs at his heartstrings. Maybe it's what she said—or perhaps it's the way she said it—he can't place it, but it hurts more than it should. If it were up to him, this idea would _never_ make it to the table. They'd strike a deal, maybe, but no one would be forced to marry someone they hardly knew.

It's mostly Betty he's concerned about, not himself. He'd never thought he'd find someone to love him, and he'd been okay with that. Betty, on the other hand, is attractive, witty, and funny; someone would've snatched her up eventually. He'd be surprised if she doesn't have a boyfriend already, or at least several admirers.

The Coopers come speeding out a few moments later, muttering lazy excuses for their daughter's behavior as they race off to find her.

Behind him, his father's voice fills the hall. "Forsythe, a word."

Jughead enters the office with a less than pleased look on his face, waiting for his father to speak. He leans against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. "Yes?"

"Isn't she lovely? Stand up straight, boy."

"She's something, sure, but don't you think this is unfair?" He pushes off, picking his beanie from his back pocket and tugging it down onto his head. "Forcing her to marry me? And for what? Money? We have _plenty_ of that. Just pay them off, it's easier."

"They need money, too, Forsythe. Marrying into the family ensures that. It's the deal. Take that hat off. It makes you look homeless."

"Homeless is better than stuck up, don't you think?" His voice is laced with venom, mirrored by the hate in his eyes.

FP narrows his eyes, but it's obvious he has no interest in debating with his son today. He's made a deal for life, and nothing's going to ruin his excellent mood. Jughead knows better than to poke the bear right now, so he leaves.

* * *

 His bedroom is his safe space, the one place FP never sets foot. He's free to do what he wishes without the risk of backlash from his father. That means he can dress the way he wants, and listen to whatever music he wants. School tends to give him the same feeling, as his father is so far away. Jughead craves those times when he can pretend he isn't a Jones.

He's quick to discard the ill-fitting suit he was forced into before collapsing onto his bed. It's then that it hits him that he never asked for Betty's number. With a bit of sleuthing he's sure he could find it, but that's an invasion of privacy. Plus, he's the last person she wants to hear from right now. On the other hand, though, they do need to get to know one another. He finds himself stuck, unsure of what to do. He'd ask Archie, but he tends to be unpredictable, and Jughead isn't sure that's the right strategy to take with Betty.

_Ding._

_Unknown Number:_ Hey. -Betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will feature some of the other Riverdale characters, so stay tuned! As always, comments feed my soul so give me all of the feedback!


	3. Pulling a Nancy Drew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead wants to be offended, but he knows Archie's right. There are some things about his family that should be kept secret, and his father's actual source of income is one of those secrets. Girls like Betty Cooper should be held as far away from the carnage of the Jones family as possible. As far as Jughead is concerned, no part of her will go harmed—not under his watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I promise I didn't abandon it!! I had finals so I was super focused on that! But, here you go! And I'm working on chapter 4 as we speak!

"It baffles me how ungrateful you are, Elizabeth. We're doing this for you!" Alice shouts through Betty's bedroom door to no avail. There isn't a chance in hell Betty is going to reply, not now. If her parents don't see a problem with forcing her to wed, they don't deserve a response.

"Fine, be stubborn. Just know this can't be changed. You should use your time constructively. Here." She pushes a sheet of paper under the door without another word, her footsteps receding down the stairs.

Betty eyes the paper for a long while before she decides to look at it. From her mattress, it had seemed like a discarded scrap, but up close she can see it's very obviously a telephone number. It's written on a monogrammed notecard with gold finish, the letters _FPJ_ flashing in the bottom right corner. In elegant, twisting handwriting, she reads:

_Elizabeth,_   
_You can reach Forsythe here, should you change your mind: 212-664-7556_   
_F.P. Jones II_

It's one thing to decide her fate for her, but to shove acceptance down her throat is cruel. She needs time to process the idea, and no one is willing to give her that time. With a scoff, she tears the card in half and drops it in the trash. There will be plenty of time for them to get to know one another once school starts. For now, she just wants to be Betty Cooper.

Next door, she sees her girlhood crush, Archie Andrews, enter his bedroom. He transferred to Riverdale Prep freshman year, almost wholly cutting their communication. There were brand-new friends to be made and lovelier girls to court, so Betty took the back burner, where she was neglected.

It's then that an idea strikes her, and while she isn't sure if it's a good one, it's the only one she has. She pulls out her phone and types a desperate text to her former friend, requesting his advice and guidance. After a pleasant reintroduction and small talk, she asks the question that's raging inside of her.

 

_Betty: You know Forsythe Jones, right?_   
_Archie: I go to school with him... Why?_   
_Betty: Meet at Pop's?_   
_Archie: Sure... You okay?_

 

She doesn't respond as she climbs out of her window and slinks down the ladder always stored there. She's on a mission, and she can't afford to get caught.

* * *

 

Milkshakes with Archie Andrews defined Betty's middle school years. This is the first time they've met like this since the summer before eighth grade when he left for Riverdale Prep. It's, surprisingly, not at all awkward or uncomfortable. If anything, it's nostalgic in the kind of way that fills you with unexplained happiness.

As she sips on her sugary drink, she eyes the redhead across from her. If he'd stayed behind, he'd probably be donning a letterman jacket instead of a blazer with the school logo on the pocket. In all honesty, he looks pompous, and it's taking everything in her not to chuckle. In less than a month, she'd be sporting something similar and would lose every right to laugh.

"So, what's this emergency, Betts?" Archie asks, finally. The silence had been swelling between them, and it hadn't occurred to her that while _she_ may be content, Archie may feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, yeah. Fors— _Jughead_ Jones. What do you know about him?" Betty nibbles on her straw, a habit better than piercing her palms.

"He's smart. The heir to the Jones fortune, obviously. He's always wearing this ratty old beanie—you'd never know how rich he was if his name wasn't _Forsythe_. He's kind of sarcastic. That's about all I know. Why the sudden interest?" He raises an eyebrow at her, and Betty can't tell if he's judging her curiosity or her gnawing on the straw.

"No reason," she lies. "My parents were writing a story on his dad, so I was just curious."

"Ah, so you're pulling a Nancy Drew?"

"A _what_?"

"That thing you do where you stick your nose places they don't belong to get information." The way he says it isn't harsh at all. In fact, it almost seems like her sleuth-like behavior is charming to him. "It reminds me of when we were kids. You did it _all_ the time to help me out."

Betty beams and gazes down into her milkshake, stirring its melting contents. "I'm not investigating him or anything, Arch. I'm just—"

" _Curious_. I know. Jug's a nice enough guy. Very vocal about what he thinks is right. He's a lot like you, actually."

* * *

 

Despite never giving her an ounce of advice, Archie had helped Betty out a lot. After her meltdown and a milkshake, it was clear that she'd been _way_ too quick to judge. It isn't Jughead's fault that their parents are forcing them together, and taking that rage out on him wasn't fair. He's going through the same thing she is—she shouldn't ice him out.

She reaches into her too-tight pocket to fish out the shredded notecard and realigns the halves. The number stares her in the face, sending a chill down her spine. No matter how much she doesn't want to do this, she knows she doesn't have much choice. Plus, she can admit Jughead's kind of charming. There's no way to go but forward.

 

_Betty: Hey. -Betty_

 

His response isn't instantaneous, but she doesn't know what she expected. Barely three hours before, she'd shouted at him for "ruining her life" in true Betty fashion. It's embarrassing to think back to that behavior, and it makes her cheeks go red. For a moment, she finds herself wishing there was a "Cancel Text" button.

 

_Jughead: Miss Cooper. To what do I owe the pleasure?_

 

The sarcasm is practically leaking through the phone and striking her in the face. Again, it's not like Jughead owes her anything, never mind a civil conversation. If she were him, she'd disregard the text altogether and go on with her life. But, like Archie said, he's a kind enough guy.

 

_Betty: Your dad left your number with my parents... figured I say hi._   
_Jughead: I'm honored! A text from THE Betty Cooper! I will save it immediately._

 

Betty rolls her eyes at the teasing, and while she wishes she could hate it, it's instead considerably charming.

Across the way, she doesn't notice that Archie hasn't returned home. He'd dropped her off, and she'd assumed he was just going upstairs. But he had other plans.

* * *

 

"Betty Cooper asked about _me_?"

"Yeah, she used to be my best friend."

Jughead groans and pulls the brim of his beanie down over his eyes. It only makes sense that she'd be sneaking around to gather information on him. That doesn't mean it's any less disappointing. He'd tried to be congenial without disregarding who he really is, but there's only some much to be done about his character. In actuality, he doesn't think he's that bad of a person. If anything, it's his father's fault she felt the need to investigate. Yes. He'll condemn his father.

"Dude, _what_? She's just curious about your dad. Her parents have some kind of story on him," Archie explains.

Jughead snorts. "That's not exactly it, Archie." He pauses, searching his brain for the right way to reveal that he's being ordered to marry a stranger. "Our parents have made a deal. To protect both of our families, we're getting married in June."

Archie says nothing, as expected. It's a shocking announcement, and it would be weird if he _did_ have an immediate remark.

The entire idea unquestionably ancient, but there's no _real_ law against it. If both individuals have parental consent, which they assuredly do, it's entirely legal. They could resist, but that would result in a familial backlash, which, in their case may be more hazardous than the government.

It's several moments before Archie finally opens his mouth again. "You and Betty? _Married_? You're only seventeen!"

"Yes. But come June, we'll both be eighteen. There's nothing illegal about that."

"Say _no_ , then. You don't have to!"

"We do. Either that or risk homelessness. Which would you choose?" Jughead lifts an eyebrow and shrugs.

"It's ridiculous, Jug. They can't force you to—"

"Archie, we've already established that, _yes_ , they can. Are you done?" Archie nods, and Jughead proceeds, "She texted me just before you got here, and now I'm worried it was only because you talked to her."

"I didn't say much, honestly. I said I didn't really know you."

"Why would you say that?"

"I didn't know anything about this, and, to be real with you, Jug, I didn't want her involved in your family's mess. She's a nice girl. She shouldn't be involved in your dad's mess." Archie hesitates and stares down at his hands. "If you can't say no, just protect her, okay? Don't let anything happen to her, and don't let her see what your dad really does."

Jughead wants to be offended, but he knows Archie's right. There are some things about his family that should be kept secret, and his father's actual source of income is one of those secrets. Girls like Betty Cooper should be held as far away from the carnage of the Jones family as possible. As far as Jughead is concerned, no part of her will go harmed—not under his watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archie, finally! Exciting, right? You'll see a lot more of him and Veronica and the rest of the gang will appear over the next few chapters! Are you excited for drama to go down, because I am.


	4. Riverdale Preparatory Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead stares as the girls retreat, sharp eyes taking in every inch of her. The skirt swishes teasingly after her, and he can tell that she's fully aware; it's a game for her. He won't be permitted to taste her, oh no, not until he's earned it. Even if he can't see it, he can feel the sneer on her face from where he stands, watching her saunter away from him and his advances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll set up a posting schedule so you lot know when I'll be posting! For both our sakes. I hope you enjoy Betty's first day at Riverdale Prep! I know it's a little dry, but you can expect a BIG plot drop next chapter!

Just glancing at it, anyone would assume Riverdale Prep was an ivy league university. The buildings are massive, and they make Betty feel miniature. Each building is named after an affluent benefactor, so it only makes sense that there's a Jones Hall. It makes even more sense that it's her new dormitory.

"Classes start tomorrow, Elizabeth, do _not_ forget. Wear your hair down for a change and please, would it kill you to smile? You have to meet with th—"

"—headmaster before classes start. I know, mom, we've been over it ten times since we got here." Betty sighs and looks between her parents. "You don't have to stay. I can unpack by myself."

"We want to say hello to FP before we go," Alice interrupts.

"You'll see him at the wedding," Betty counters, the hatred dripping from her words. She doesn't mean for it to be so callous, but it can't be helped.

Alice clears her throat in an attempt to hide the hurt she feels and turns to her husband. Neither of them speaks, communicating only through abrupt nods. Hal steps forward to kiss Betty on the forehead, but she's quick to dodge him.

"I need to unpack," she repeats.

"Of course," Hal mutters. "Have a good semester, okay?"

Betty smiles a tight-lipped smile and nods, her ponytail swaying behind her. She's shoved her hands into her pockets to avoid digging her nails into her wounds, but it isn't working. Her fingers are creeping closer to her palms, aching for the familiar burn. If her parents stay much longer, she'll have a new bloodstain to add to her collection.

It's a relief to watch them go, and for a moment she feels like a lousy daughter. It helps to remember what they're doing to her. That's all it takes for her to release those negative emotions and head back into her dorm building.

She reenters her room and lets out a hefty sigh as if she'd been holding her breath. Her eyes fall shut as she recomposes herself, which is probably why she doesn't notice the raven-haired enchantress standing before her.

"Ahem," the girl mutters. "Elizabeth, right?"

Betty's eyes fly open in a panic. "Oh! Um, Betty! Betty Cooper." She holds out a hand to shake and is suddenly very conscious of the scars on her palms.

Her roommate doesn't seem to notice, however, because she takes her hand.

"Veronica Lodge! I'm _so_ excited to be rooming with you this year! My Archiekins has been gushing about you _all_ summer long. You were friends when you were kids?"

This is all new information to Betty, and she isn't sure how to process it. She blinks a few times, hoping to give her brain a jumpstart. Archie has a girlfriend? And she didn't know about it? No, it must be another Archie. That is a possibility, aside from the fact that she only knows _one_ boy named Archie.

"Archie Andrews? Yeah, he's my next-door neighbor. We were practically inseparable until he transferred."

"Amazing! Now you'll be reunited, and we can all be besties. You and Jughead are a couple, right? Oh, sorry, _Forsythe_. Archie mentioned it a few nights ago."

The blonde releases a faint sigh and ponders for a moment about how to respond. The two aren't dating, necessarily, but it wouldn't make sense to date someone else, either. In just ten months, Betty was going to be Mrs. Forsythe Pendleton Jones III. It makes more sense to take the time getting to know Jughead than to date another boy, but she _isn't_ his girlfriend.

She nods, bubblegum pink lips stretched into an almost-painful smile. "We are!" It's a lie, of course, but no one would believe her if she told them the truth. It's safer to pretend and make the wedding less shocking.

Veronica smiles and claps her hands like a child on Christmas morning. Little does she know, nothing about her roommate is exciting. Not for her, and certainly not for Betty.

* * *

 

The corridors of Riverdale Prep are long and tranquil as Betty wanders down them, the only sound being her shoes clacking against the hardwood floors. She's being led by a preppy redheaded girl, Cheryl, in a cheer uniform, but she isn't hearing to anything she's saying. Her eyes are too busy taking in her surroundings.

Student trophies and artwork line the walls from the ceiling to the floor, all in pristine condition. Had she seen these pieces elsewhere, Betty would fully believe they were professionally constructed. She eyes the award case and wonders if a cup with her name will make it onto the shelf.

"Um, _hello_? Did you hear a word I said?" Cheryl snaps, arms folded across her chest.

Betty stumbles as she's snapped out of her daydream and pulled back into real time. "I—Sorry. You were talking about the—" She gestures to the shiny awards in the display behind her.

" _Obvi_ , nightmare Smurfette, but what about them? At least pretend you care." Cheryl's red curls flip over her shoulder as she turns away again, already heading off on another rant.

* * *

 

Jughead tugs his beanie down further over his head in an attempt to escape his teacher's wretched ramblings. It's the first day of class, and she's already shoving information down his throat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar blonde ponytail swinging in the hall. Of course, he's seen various blonde ponytails in his life, but this one has a particular bounce to it. The coil at the bottom hangs neatly to the left, and it's held up by matching blonde hair ties—not one, but _two_. He assumes this is to keep it in place, to keep it tidy enough for her parents.

His hand shoots into the air. "Bathroom?"

He barely waits for an acknowledgment, already out of his seat and in the hall before she has a chance to open her mouth.

"Betty," he breathes out, the signature Jones smirk settling on his face as he shoves his hands into his blazer pockets. He takes note of her uniform and how beautifully it holds her curves. The skirt rests nicely at her mid-thigh, and just beneath he can see the cream-like skin of her thigh. It's nearly sinful how well the knee-highs show off her legs, and it burns to tear his eyes away.

She turns with a startled look on her face, but when she notices him, she softens—momentarily. It doesn't take long for her to freeze once more and for her grasp on her books to tighten.

" _Forsythe_ ," she replies. It's sharp and severe, and it stings in his chest the way she says it.

"We're busy, you hobo. Run along." The well-known voice of Cheryl Blossom feels like daggers in his ears.

"Good morning to you, too, Cheryl. I'm just here to see _Elizabeth_ ," Jughead declares, "isn't that right?"

Betty's lips press into a thin line of disapproval, but he can tell she isn't going to object. It would look bad for both of them, they both know that, so playing nice is the only route to take.

"That's right," she finally agrees. "Forsythe and I are—"

"Don't care," Cheryl cuts her off, brow raised. "We have places to be."

"Can't I see my—" He pauses. He isn't sure what to call Betty without offending her. It seems he's outstanding at hurting her feelings and he wants to avoid that at all costs.

" _Girlfriend_ , Jug. You can say it," she finishes for him. It throws him off guard, for sure, but he doesn't mind it. They're getting married, so it only makes sense to date one another, right?

Cheryl raises a brow and lets out an overdramatic yawn. "Snooze. Let's go, Bride of Hobo. We have places to be."

Betty leans up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to Jughead's cheek, her scent overcoming him like a wave of vanilla and peppermint. Her lipgloss smudges against his skin, leaving a sticky imprint of her lips. It takes everything in him to remain calm and collected, but her next words completely throw him off balance.

"It's all for the show, _Forsythe_. Smile."

Jughead stares as the girls retreat, sharp eyes taking in every inch of her. The skirt swishes teasingly after her, and he can tell that she's fully aware; it's a game for her. He won't be permitted to taste her, oh no, not until he's earned it. Even if he can't see it, he can feel the sneer on her face from where he stands, watching her saunter away from him and his advances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl and Ronnie and Archie, oh my! I told you the rest of the Riverdale crew would pop up soon! Get ready for the wild ride that is chapter 5!


	5. The First Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way, Betty notices one of her floor mates standing in her doorway. It's roped off with caution tape, and within, she can see police officers. The girl is sobbing and drenched in blood, blood that Betty doesn't believe is hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for murder! Stay safe, babies!

Betty's asleep when the alarm blares and, at first, she mistakes it for her phone alarm. She reaches over to silence it and instead receives a firm shake from Veronica.

"B, we have to go! It's a lockdown!" She screeches into Betty's ear, earning her a weak slap to the forearm.

"Lockdown? For _what_?"

Veronica is already clutching her bag and heading for the door, watching Betty with wild eyes. It's only then that Betty understands the news roared through the hall speakers.

"All students report to your dormitory basements quickly and with your roommates." Over and over again, that automated voice speaks in time with the blaring siren-like warnings. Outside their window, Betty can see flashing blue and red lights.

Her body moves on its own, fingers reaching for her phone and a sweater before she follows Veronica out into the hallway. The girls clutch each other as they shuffle through the crowd, afraid they'll lose one another.

"It's only the first night!" Betty yells. "Is this a drill?"

"No! They _never_ do this kind of drill without warning," Veronica responds. "I hope we can find the boys."

The corridor smells of sweat and booze pooling in Betty's nostrils. She can't tell if it's just the boy in front of her or a collective scent, but it's repulsive nonetheless. She presses her palm against her nose to block it, but still, it oozes through. Her opposite hand is maiming itself, piercing the skin with bloodied fingernails. The entire experience is frightening, and she has no idea what to do from here.

On the way, Betty notices one of her floor mates standing in her doorway. It's roped off with caution tape, and within, she can see police officers. The girl is sobbing and drenched in blood, blood that Betty doesn't believe is hers.

The crowd heads towards the basement and Betty can't help but question if they'll all _really_ manage to fit down there. There's at least a few hundred of them, and she doesn't know if everyone from five levels of dorm rooms can fit in _one_ cellar.

It's a snug fit down the stairwell, causing the pair to lose each other once or twice. In those moments, no matter how brief, Betty finds her nails fitting snuggly into the familiar crescent scars. When she manages to find Veronica again, she wipes the blood on her pink pajama bottoms. By the time they make it all the way down, it looks as though she's been attacked.

The students fill into what Betty assumes is a bomb shelter of some kind, and the hall mothers to count heads as they enter. Over the chatter, she hears someone yelling her name, and though she's searching, she can't quite locate the source of the call. It's when Veronica releases her hand and races off that she sees the culprit: Jughead Jones. Standing beside him is Archie, now clutching his girlfriend tightly in his arms. Jughead is approaching her, quickly, and she's too frightened to resist.

"Betty," he calls out, his arms wrapping around her petite frame. "You're alive."

" _Alive_?" Betty pulls back and places her hands on his chest. "What do you mean?"

Jughead's face drains of color as if he's said the wrong thing, and he immediately tries to backtrack.

" _Safe_. You're safe." He pauses. "Or are you?"

His previously white t-shirt is now stained red from Betty's bleeding palms, and he's noticed. He removes her hands from his chest and turns them over in his own, but before he has an opportunity to look, she's jerked them back.

"I'm fine. What's going on? I saw a girl covered in blood upstairs and—"

"It's okay. As long as you're okay, Betty, it's okay. The police will handle it," Jughead interrupts, giving her a stern look. But she will not be silenced.

"The police? Does this happen often here? My parents will have me pulled in _seconds_ , and this little deal with your da—"

Jughead crashes his lips against hers, hands cupping her cheeks and hoping to silence her. Their first kiss, Betty notes, and it's much less romantic than either of them would've liked. Their noses collide, and their teeth clank together in such a way that makes her pull away in disgust.

"You can't just kiss me when you want me to shut up!" She shouts. "I'm serious, Jug. I _need_ you to tell me what's happening."

"You called me Jug," he remarks, unable to conceal his grin.

" _Forsythe_ ," she corrects, crossing her arms across her chest. "Talk."

* * *

 

Jughead gulps hard and stares at this delicate yet formidable woman, combing his mind for the appropriate words to say. It's not simple, coming up with a lie in a situation like this. It'll be all over the news in about an hour, and his father would be calling in in half that time. His only options were to either tell her the truth or avoid speaking at all.

His saving grace comes in the form of a shouting hall mother calling their attention at the front of the overpacked room. A sigh of relief falls from his lips as he turns to listen, wordlessly pleading Betty to do the same.

"We have received word that one of our senior football players, Reginald Mantle, has been murdered this evening," the woman states. Her demeanor is too carefree for Jughead's liking—a boy has just been killed, and she's speaking as though it's nothing more than a petty nuisance.

"You're all to remain here this evening while the police search the grounds. Some of you will be asked to answer some questions, and you will do so. Please cooperate, and get comfortable."

Jughead's eyes have since strayed over to Betty, who's watching with a look of sheer terror painted on her face. It's probably inappropriate, but he's more focused on how dainty she looks with her hair down than the possibility of an armed killer prowling campus. His gaze roams over her, taking in all potential information, from the style of pajamas she fancies to the blood on her thighs. Why does she do that to herself?

He runs his fingers through his hair, greasy from his lack of a shower that evening, and exhales slowly. He's going to hear about this, and he doesn't want to, which is why he left his phone up in his room. By now, he probably had fifteen missed calls from his father along with just as many voicemails.

Betty tugs at Jughead's sleeve to get his attention, causing him to glance down at her. She looks nervous, and he wants to shield her, but affection hasn't been doing too well for him. He needs to be patient with her and win her over like in the old romance movies—no matter how cheesy he found it.

"Jughead, what's happening?" she murmurs.

"I don't know, Betts. I don't have any more information than you do. Let's find a place to sit, hm?" He tries to be tender, but she doesn't seem very impressed.

"I think I'd rather sit with Veronica. Ronnie?" Betty's voice has gone back to its usual flat tone, and Jughead raises his arms in defense. He won't push her, he promised himself that.

"Alright. I'll be over here with Archie if you need me."

Betty nods and grabs her roommate's hand, tugging her in an entirely different direction until neither of them can be seen in the crowd.

* * *

 

Hours drag on, and still, they hear nothing. Betty's still clinging to Veronica's arm despite numerous efforts to shake her off. The space around them is crowded, and she's worried that if she lets go Veronica will disappear.

The air in the room feels sticky upon her skin, sweat pooling in the small of her back. Her blonde curls are frizzy, and she wishes she could tie it up, but, of course, she left her ties in her room. In confusion, she hadn't been concerned about anything but Jughead.

It was nearly excruciating to accept it, but she'd been worried about her betrothed. Even if she took it out on Jughead, the engagement was _far_ from his fault—he doesn't deserve to be hurt.

She can see him from where she's perching, leaned back against the wall with his beanie pulled over his eyes. He's too far away to discern them, but she can picture the moles that litter his otherwise faultless skin and finds herself wanting to count them. Even if she does abhor him, she can still admit he's attractive. Especially the free curl that almost perpetually rests against his forehead; she can't see it right now, but she knows it's there and that it looks delightful.

"Elizabeth Cooper," a voice shouts above the chattering students. "Elizabeth Cooper."

Betty pulls her eyes away from Jughead to look to the front of the room. Standing there is a strict looking policeman with a clipboard in hand. He's holding a pen to a specific spot, which Betty assumes is her name. Slowly, she raises her hand and drops her hold on Veronica. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jughead sitting up, but she doesn't turn to him.

The policeman signals for her and turns to leave the room, expecting her to follow. The carpeted floor feels coarse against her bare feet, something she's only now conscious of. Her nerve endings are on fire as she suddenly finds herself hyper aware of everything around her. To her left, she can hear someone munching on a potato chip as if she were squatting right next to them. On her opposite side, the shuffling of bodies against the carpet—it's driving her insane. In her chest, her heart is racing, and she can feel her cheeks flushing.

A panic attack, courtesy of her relentless panic disorder. She hasn't had one in months, so it makes sense that she's due for one. But she can't pacify herself, not here with all these strangers staring at her. Instead, she sinks her nails deep into her palms, gasping softly at the sting it provides. Pain is a distraction.

* * *

 

Betty is led to an adjacent room and sat opposite another cop. This one seems softer than the first, but it does nothing to ease her mind. It hurts to breathe, but she's managing.

"Elizabeth, hello. My name is Officer Rollins. I just have a few questions for you, and then you're free to go. We have a guardian here to sit in, is that alright?" His voice is soothing and reassuring.

She's furious with her parents, but Betty knows she'll feel safer with one of them with her. Without vocalizing, she agrees and gazes down at her now-bloodied palms.

The door behind her opens with a crash, and when she turns around it isn't either of her parents standing there.

 _It's FP Jones_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Reggie is a fave, but he had to die, okay? There's a reason, I promise, just hear me out... in the next chapter! As always, comments really help me out! xo


End file.
